


Criminal Portrait

by Vicaa344



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Caring Sherlock is my weakness, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Multi, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Slow Burn, reader is John's sister, reader is a criminal portrait artist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-06 00:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19051540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vicaa344/pseuds/Vicaa344
Summary: Being away from home for several years had its downsides. Ever since Y/N Watson left England in pursuit after adventures (an artistic inspiration), she was unaware that her brother found a much better source of what she was after.As soon as Y/N came back to London, she started working for New Scotland Yard - and was almost immediately pulled into the whirlwind of excitement that was Sherlock Holmes' life.





	1. The Return

**Author's Note:**

> Updates on weekends (probably).

The return to London wasn't an easy task. It took Y/N to get used to staying in one place and talking one language again. It needed to be done, however, if she wished to catch up with her brother and family, as well as find a job.

As she stepped off the plane and retrieved her luggage, Y/N made her way to the exit of the airport where she saw her brother waiting for her. Along with a quite tall companion. She walked up to the two with a smile.

'John! So good to see you,' Y/N said hugging her brother. 'Who's your friend?'

'This is Sherlock Holmes,' John introduced when they parted from the hug. 'Sherlock, this is my sister, Y/N.'

A soft smile settled on Sherlock's features as the woman extended her hand to shake his with a cheerful "Nice to meet you!" He was already silently examining her and making mental notes of what he could expect from her in the future.  _Exhaustion after the flight, at least two hours. Medium-sized suitcase, more convenient for constant travels, an interesting glint in the eye, intelligent look, cheerful personality. Hand skilled in arts, small callouses as an effect of holding a drawing tool frequently, small dark patches of graphite suggesting sketching during the trip._

'Likewise. John has told me quite a bit about you,' he said shaking her hand.  _Firm grip. Confidence._

'I hope he didn't say anything too embarrassing about me,' Y/N joked. 'Let's go now, shall we? I'm starving.'

The three of them soon found themselves in a cab, heating to 221 Baker Street. Y/N assumed it was where John and Sherlock lived but the location was quite foreign to her and it soon turned out that it was the detective who had his home there. She later learnt that John had been offered to be his flatmate but the doctor declined and his later marriage quickly justified his desire to live separately from Sherlock.

'I'm sure the wedding was great,' Y/N said, 'and I am so sorry that I wasn't there to witness it. I'm sure that Mary's a lovely person.'

'I know that you couldn't make it then,' John replied taking his coat off and then hanging it before making his way to the kitchen to prepare tea for the trio. 'And the drawing you sent was a great gift. I have it framed on the wall home.'

'Oh it was nothing,' she waved her hand dismissively. 'It was the least I could do.'

The two were calmly catching up on what they had missed during those two years, John and Sherlock sitting in their respective armchairs while Y/N found a comfortable spot on the couch. During the whole conversation, Sherlock stayed silent, lost in his own world of deductions as he listened closely and analysed the two Watsons' relationship. _Overprotective brother, reckless sister, deep care and love for each other, very subtle sibling competition._

'...I'm sure they'd be happy to have you in New Scotland Yard. Right, Sherlock?'

He blinked. John was glaring at him, clearly annoyed that Sherlock wasn't paying much attention to the topic of the conversation. His icy blue eyes moved to Y/N across the room.

'Dull.'

'I'm sorry?' John said, Y/N only tilting her head a bit to the side.

'I said dull,' Sherlock repeated. 'Dull, boring, ordinary. Job at New Scotland Yard, you would be starting on the lowest of levels - minor crimes, shoplifting, robbery, vandalism. Kidnapping at best.'

'Oh, I know. But I've heard that you were a detective, Mr Holmes,' Y/N said, stirring slight curiosity in the tall man. 'I am only looking for something that would pay the bills. But John's blog says a lot about you and your thrilling adventures.'

The last sentence made him let out a soft sigh softly adding, 'Truly, why is everyone reading it?' Y/N paid no attention to it, however, as she voiced an offer with a friendly smile.

'It would be a pleasure to work alongside you, Mr Holmes.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the chapter is short but I really would rather write less and more often just to keep the story going. Hope you enjoy it so far. :)


	2. The Usurper I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post this one earlier as compensation for the previous shortie. Comments are more than welcome. :)

New Scotland Yard was indeed delighted to have Y/N work for them as a forensic artist since their last one just recently went on maternity leave. It was truly frustrating for them to work without even the slightest idea what their criminals might look like. It was mainly thanks to Detective Inspector Lestrade that she was accepted since he was one of the very few people who trusted Sherlock and John.

It was dull - just like Sherlock predicted - but Y/N wasn't the one to complain. Being able to pay the bills and improve her artistic skills was enough for her. Not to mention that she had access to some files and cases which might have turned out useful in the future. Since she wanted to work with the tall detective and her brother on the more interesting matters, the information she could acquire gave her the upper hand. Sherlock was aware of it.

After her suggestion, it took him a while to process it. He was uncertain whether he could allow another person - especially John's younger sister - to take care of such dangerous affairs. Not to mention, that he could get attached to yet another person. He couldn't allow that. He shouldn't. And yet, he was confident that it was already too late. Only because Y/N was a part of John's family. The female obviously wasn't giving him any say in the matter anyway.

Suddenly, the tall detective is pulled out of his thoughts when the two Watsons barge into his flat, the female holding a file of papers.

'Sherlock, there's a new case,' John said.

'Wealthy family. Mr and Mrs Abney were killed and their two children kidnapped,' Y/N added showing him the report.

He grabbed the file and quickly read through the pages. They contained information about the family, a brief background history, the names and address. Apparently, Mr Abney was the boss of a small trading company. Most of the money they possessed, however, was inherited after Mrs Abney's mother who had been reported as a wife of a deceased drug dealer.

'Anything else?' Sherlock looked up at the two.

'There are no signs of anyone breaking in. They were killed with a blade and there aren't any fingerprints,' Y/N said.

Holmes nodded and then got up. As soon as he grabbed his coat, the trio was out and heading to the Abney household.

* * *

'The murder weapon is missing but it was certainly some sort of blade,' Lestrade explained as Sherlock and the two Watsons were making their way inside of the large house and to the second floor where the bodies had been found. 'The killer left a note in one of Mr Abney's pockets but that's it.'

In the middle of a bedroom, the two victims were lying next to each other facing the ceiling, their blood staining a white carpet beneath them. There were deep, clean cuts in their necks which opened their tracheas and oesophagus but the bones were undisturbed. The way their bodies were positioned indicated that they were killed at the same time which meant either double blades or one long - possibly a sword. They were clothed unofficially and comfortably, which meant that they had no intention of leaving the house any time soon. They had been dead for at least 12 hours before a maid found them and reported the crime.

'What did the note say?' Sherlock asked pulling out his magnifying glass to inspect the bodies.

Without a word, Lestrade pulled out the slip of paper - already sealed in a small zip-lock bag - and handed it to the detective.

_MISS ME?_

Sherlock froze.

'Wasn't that what all the messages said after Moriarity's death?' John asked looking at Lestrade who nodded.

This was wrong. They had already taken care of the third Holmes sibling and her connections with the criminal. So how was it possible for him to come back? _Again?_ There must have been another person pulling the strings - mimicking the dead mastermind.

Meanwhile, Y/N was examining the crime scene on her own, paying little to no attention to the three men. She was silently making notes of all the details, deducing which meant what.

'They were murdered as soon as they left the bed,' she said quietly. 'They must have been woken up in the middle of the night. Mr Abney has a small bruise on his leg, he must have hit something when getting out of bed in the dark.'

That was more than enough to gain attention. Especially Sherlock's. He was quite impressed. He didn't expect John's sister to be so clever and to be able to deduce things in such a quick fashion.

'They got in through the window,' Y/N continued moving to examine the windowsill and frames. 'The intruder left some clues for us.'

As if on cue, Sherlock got up from his crouching position and walked up to the younger Watson gently pushing her aside, magnifying glass in hand to take a look at the 'clues'. There was a slightly darker spot on the wood - the place where the kidnapper placed their foot. There were also small scratches which indicated the struggle of the children. The window was closed, however. The criminal must have thought of that detail that some people could have overlooked.

Sherlock opened the window to peer outside. On the wall below the opening were minuscule blemishes. After the quick examination, the detective turned and swiftly exited the room heading outdoors to stand right below the window.

It took the other three by surprise a bit but were quick to follow. There seemed to be no signs of a vehicle or any footsteps whatsoever. No discolourations, no dropped items, nothing small littering the neat paving. That is until Y/N noticed a few feet away from the spot a barely distinguishable spot on one of the bricks.

It was only a shade darker but it looked as if a tiny drop of blood fell on the ground. It was smeared a bit - an attempt to wipe it off?

'John! Sherlock!' she exclaimed looking up at the men.

They rushed to her, Lestrade helplessly following like a lost child. Sherlock was already examining the new-found clue before he pulled out his small trusty kit of tools from which he picked a small cotton pad. He picked up small bits of the dried substance and then put it in a clean zip-lock bag.

'One of them got injured and the kidnappers tried to get rid of the evidence,' the detective muttered. 'They were running out of time though and didn't manage to clean it up completely.' Getting up he looked at Lestrade. 'I don't suppose there are any other signs of a struggle?'

* * *

After the whole crime scene had been cleared, Sherlock and his companions made their way to St Bartholomew's Hospital for inspection of their bit of evidence. It turned out that the blood belonged to a woman named Lan Shu Han. The name didn't say anything to them other than that the female was Chinese.

'Think she might be part of the Black Lotus?' Y/N suggested.

Sherlock opened his mouth pulling away from the microscope about to ask how she knew about the Black Lotus but then quickly remembered John's blog. She must have been reading it. Why wouldn't she? It was her brother's blog after all. He turned back to the lens examining the little bits of blood, pavement and dirt.

'No,' he said quietly. 'They leave origami on their victims' bodies.'

Lan Shu Han was supposedly a shopkeeper of one of the many antique shops in Chinatown but since she was one of the criminals, she must have had some sort of connections. _Part of a gang? A drug dealer? A drug addict? Black market purchases?_ Whatever the case was, she needed to be arrested and interrogated. Who knew if she would be willing to tell anything to the police though. If there was a threat of something much worse than death, she would certainly deny confessing. They needed to reach her in a different way.

Without any word, Sherlock was already pulling his coat on and rushing outside.

'Where to?' John asked following suit.

'Chinatown.'


	3. The Usurper II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beloved beta reader, TempestJewel. ♡

The shop was as ordinary as any other. Full of antique dishes, jewellery, paintings and whatnot. Behind the counter, however, was not the person the three investigators were looking for.

'How may I help you?' the man asked in a bored, clearly British accent.

Not only wasn't he a female but also he clearly wasn't Asian. Just another teenager trying to earn a few pennies in between studies.  _Rebellious, has issues with his parents and hates the job but won't voice his complaints. Smoker._ When asked about the woman in question, he simply responded with "she's not here".

'What do you mean, "She's not here"?' Sherlock asked with a frown.

The boy shrugged.

'She's away on vacation. Been away for a few days now.'

The tall detective and his companions stayed silent for a brief moment before Y/N spoke up.

'May we take a look at the back of the shop?'

He just shrugged again with a quiet "whatever" before turning his attention to his phone. The Watson siblings exchanged glances, Sherlock already directing his steps towards a door behind the counter.

The backroom didn't seem to have anything out of ordinary. Two stools and a small table were set by one of the walls above which was a corkboard with leaflets, item prices and lists. Most of the room's space was filled with boxes full of different kinds of trinkets. Anything that could be considered as personal belongings were only a black coat on the table and a backpack leaning against one of its legs - evidently possessions of the teenager at the register. On the far wall behind the labyrinth of boxes, there could also be noticed a back door.

Sherlock took a few steps inside, disappearing from sight behind the boxes as he examined the area. Y/N decided to look closer at the boy's belongings while John kept staring at the corkboard reading pieces of the papers hanging on it.

There wasn't anything among the antiques that the tall detective could consider as a source of information. Neither could the younger Watson say anything about the teenager except the most obvious facts. John, on the other hand, found something quite interesting. Just a small slip of paper pinned to the board with Asian symbols written on it. He was unable to read any them but some shapes were very familiar. Thanks to their previous case on the Black Lotus organisation he was able to recognise the same shapes and lines that meant numbers.

'Y/N?'

Y/N looked at her brother in a silent question.

'I remember you went to China once,' he continued making the woman walk up to him with a spark of curiosity in her eye.

'Yeah. What about it?'

When John pointed to the paper, she immediately started deciphering what she was able to. Travelling around the world had its advantages, such as learning new languages and alphabets. She hadn't able to learn that much but even the small bits she could read could be useful right now.

'I see you've already figured out what I wanted to ask you,' John mumbled taking out his mobile phone to take a photograph of his finding. 'Sherlock?'

The tall detective reemerged from between the columns of boxes to stand next to the Watsons. An impressed look ghosted over his features as he noticed Y/N silently working on the note. _She truly is something else._

'I assume it isn't the code the Black Lotus uses,' he said quietly to which Y/N shook her head.

'No, it's... traditional Chinese,' she said. 'I can only understand parts of it but they're some kind of directions.'

'What have you understood so far?' Sherlock asked.

'"200 East"... "weapon"?' she looked away from the paper and swiftly left the shop. 'I need a dictionary.'

* * *

With the help of the Internet, the whole note was soon understandable for everyone.

_200 East from base, weapon needed_

'Well, obviously, these are the directions to the crime scene,' Sherlock said as the trio was making their way down the street.

They were a few meters away from the Abney household. They still hadn't figured out what measurement unit had been used in the note which is why the detective asked Lestrade to cover the area with his men to speed up the search. No luck so far, unfortunately.

'I assume it is somewhere underground. All secret organisations have-' Sherlock was cut off by a phone ringing.

Y/N pulled out the small device from her pocket. With a short conversation with the Detective Inspector Lestrade, the younger Watson needed to pause her input into the case.

'Sorry, I'm needed at Scotland Yard,' she said. 'There was apparently a robbery and they need me to sketch the robber's portrait.'

Y/N smiled at the two men.

'I'll see you later, boys.'


End file.
